


How Steve Rogers Meets His Fans, Uses Social Media, And Goes On A Date

by context_please



Category: Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A little too self-aware, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Because of Reasons, Conventions, Crack, Denial, Fluff, I promise this is not every cliche ever, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4399481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/context_please/pseuds/context_please
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers loves going to conventions until he meets Tony Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Steve Rogers Meets His Fans, Uses Social Media, And Goes On A Date

The lights are bright in his vision, and he narrows his eyes, trying to squint past them. He knows his fans like seeing him, but he likes seeing them, too. The organizers always use three times the amount of lights necessary – he’s not really sure why. Although, from the look on the host’s face, he can make an educated guess.

The lights are warm on his skin, chasing away the cold that clings to his bones. It’s only been a couple of months since he stood in the cemetery and stared down at a coffin, bile eating at his stomach and heart dropping through to his shoes. He was supposed to be laughing with his mother by that time, and instead he was watching her pallid skin against the red velvet of her final resting place. He loves filming, he really does, but if it wasn’t for the extra two days’ delay, maybe he could have changed something. His heart lurches dangerously in his chest. It’s familiar by now, that horrible feeling. And he’s used to ignoring it, so he just strains his eyes to see the silhouette of one of his fans. They’re wearing a Captain America costume, roundness of the shield peeing over their shoulders.

‘Hi Steve! My name’s Megan,’ she says. And bless her – her voice is quavering a little with excitement and her breath stutters quietly against the mic.

Steve stops squinting, smiles at her warmly. ‘Hi Megan,’ he replies. ‘What would you like to ask me?’

‘First I want to say I’m sorry about your mum,’ she says, and something in her voice tells him she knows exactly how he feels. ‘We’re all here for you.’

Steve ducks his head to swallow the growing lump in his throat. His eyes itch, and something is trying to crawl its way up his throat. If it wasn’t for Megan and people like her, maybe he’d still have his mum. If the network hadn’t wanted an extra two days to film a couple of scenes requested by the fans, he would have been home to catch her when she fell down the stairs. Steve’s breath shudders out. _Get a grip_ , he tells himself viciously. He loves his fans – always has – and it’s unfair to make them the bearers of his guilt, his regret. To some of these kids, he’s what inspires them to get up in the morning. And that’s important. Steve remembers when he was like that. Wishes no kid would feel that way again.

‘Thanks,’ Steve says, looking up again. His throat still burns but that’s okay. It’s back to the way it was before. The way it’s been for two months.

‘So... my question is: what do you think about Tony Stark’s latest screenplay? Who do you think is the best for the role of Professor Jordan?’

‘It’s funny, actually,’ he says conversationally, because that’s what he does at conventions. Sits and talks with his fans, connects with them. It feels right. There are people in his position that would never attend one of these events, and it’s a shame they miss out on this. ‘I have a copy of Mr Stark’s new screenplay in my hotel at the moment. Heard it’s fantastic. I’m not much of a reader, but I do like his movies. He’s got a very unique style, so I’m sure it will be an interesting read. As for who will be the lead… I’m not sure. Mr Stark seems to choose the actor that’s best for the role, so it could be anyone. His casting choices are unusual but they pay off in the long run. He’s a smart man.’

The next fan stands up, tall amongst their seated peers. ‘I was just wondering where Bucky is,’ the voice says, weirdly familiar. ‘Oh, that’s right, I’m _here_!’

The crowd erupts into gleeful cheers, clapping wildly. Wolf whistles and yells of excitement follow Bucky to the stage. He high-fives everyone as he goes.

As much as the fans love Steve, they love it more when Steve and Bucky are together. The cheering doubles in intensity as Bucky reels him in for a hug, warm and familiar. It soothes the awful clench of his stomach and the sense of impending doom.

‘Well, I heard you were doing a shit job,’ Bucky taunts, sinking into the couch beside Steve. ‘And it’s true. You were just going to talk about reading a boring script when you should be telling them about the time you stacked it when we were filming _Carter and Co._ ’ Bucky slaps him upside the head, announces playfully, ‘Never mind! I am here to save the day!’

Steve laughs and lets Bucky takeover his panel.

 

 

 

He’s filming the third episode of _Captain America_ season five when Natasha strolls up to him, calm as ever. She hands him the strongest black coffee he’s found this side of the American border and raises an eyebrow at him. ‘You know,’ she says, pouring herself into the seat beside him, ‘apparently coffee is bad for you.’

Steve laughs, but pulls his coffee a little bit closer just in case. ‘I ate seven eggs this morning, Tasha,’ he whines, ‘and I haven’t had red meat in four days. I’m starting to go crazy.’

Natasha flicks back a strand of hair, completely graceful. ‘This is why I should never leave your side. Hiatus gives you too much freedom. Now you can’t eat junk. It’s just the way it works. And, might I add, this is more painful every time you go on hiatus-binge.’

‘I’m not going to put on any weight, anyway,’ he grumbles, and it’s true. He spent a year practically living on his mother’s couch after being killed off in _The Bold and the Beautiful_ , and his diet had consisted of various assortments of KFC and McDonalds with the occasional watermelon thrown in. What? He has a weakness for watermelons.

‘Not according to the network,’ she says, and it’s sad how much that matters. ‘Anyway, I came to tell you about _Prodigy_.’

Steve raises his eyebrow. She clearly expects him to know to what she’s referring. ‘Um… what?’

‘Tony Stark’s latest script,’ she tell him, elongating the vowels in the most subtly insulting way Steve’s ever heard. ‘The network decided to make it into a TV series. And guess who’s producing.’

Steve doesn’t even open his mouth before she steamrolls over him.

‘It’s _Fury_ ,’ she spits, furious. ‘He could have told me he was working on a new project, and with Tony Stark of all people.’

Steve shrugs. ‘That’s what Fury does. But why does all this matter, anyway?’

‘The network isn’t doing season six of _Captain America_. This will be the last,’ and she says it like she’s sad, but he doesn’t entirely trust her. She’s put these kinds of faces on before, telling casting directors Steve’s got a busy schedule, even though his only plans are with his bed and Thor Odinson’s new movie. Steve swallows nervously. He’s just glad she’s working for him.

Still, the news hits hard. It churns in his stomach angrily, striking at his chest. He’s been with _Captain America_ since the very beginning, seen the cast and crew grow to depend on one another after six years of reliance. The guest stars always leave saying they’ve been a part of something, and it pretty much sums up Steve’s life. Bucky was already his best friend, but working on this show has brought them together in a way they weren’t before. Bound them tightly.

Steve doesn’t really know how to say goodbye to all this. How to wave farewell to Mel the cameraman for the last time; to sleep in. He doesn’t know how not to see Bucky everyday or spend his time out-of-costume. But most of all, he doesn’t know how to say goodbye to Chris Evans.

He’s played the character for six years, has grown and developed alongside him, and now he has to let him go. He’s put so much of himself into the character of Chris Evans he doesn’t really know where Steve starts and Chris ends. Has spent years in his costume, hefting the weight of a shield on one arm and feeling the comfort of Evans’ second hand man, Sebastian Stan, by his side. Has spent so long being Captain America he’s not sure who he really is anymore.

It’s a little confusing.

‘I know,’ he tells her, and he does. The crew’s been whispering since the first day back on set, has told him their concerns. And he’s seen it in the way the network continues to snub their requests for a bigger budget. In Bucky’s eyes as they glance at each other.

‘Then you heard Stark asked Bucky to play the protagonist?’

She’s looking at him again, peering into his soul. No, he didn’t know, but he does now. He hasn’t seen Bucky today – Steve is certain the moment he does, Bucky will be mocking Stark mercilessly and seriously considering his offer. ‘No, but he’s the perfect choice,’ Steve says slowly, and he is. After finishing up with the last convention before filming, he’d finally read Stark’s script. His fans seemed to ask him about it entirely too much, like they thought it meant something. They probably thought Stark would offer Steve the lead role. And maybe he would have considered it, if Stark wasn’t prone to finding the most obscure actors that seemed to perfectly portray his characters. The sci-fi world had been shocked when Stark emerged from a week-long blackout only to emerge with James Rhodes, a man who’d been directing and acting in small theatre productions. Even Steve had his doubts, before he saw the movie. James’ acting was spot on, and he’d left the cinema with a chest full of swirling emotions he couldn’t decipher. Tony Stark is a fantastic writer and a shrewd businessman, unafraid of taking risks. It’s refreshing.

‘ _Prodigy_ is set to film at the end of this year,’ Natasha says, placing a cool palm on the skin of his forearm. She doesn’t tell him it’ll be all right, or that Bucky will stay with Steve, fight for _Captain America_. She doesn’t believe in useless platitudes, and Steve is thankful for it. Bucky might hate Tony Stark but he won’t refuse this opportunity. Everyone in the industry knows that if Tony Stark asks you to star, you don’t refuse. It’s the chance of a lifetime, and if Bucky passes it up Steve’s going to kill him.

Natasha rises fluidly, holding a hand out to him. ‘Now, you’ve got a one o’clock with the producers, and you don’t want to be late this time.’

Laughing, Steve retorts, ‘I believe that time was your fault.’ And the familiarity of Natasha’s scathing wit calms the tsunami in his gut.

 

 

 

 

It’s when they’re in the car on the way home that Bucky finally blurts it out.

Steve turns in his seat, frowning at him. It’s dark outside, and all he can see is the flash of lights behind Bucky’s head, the faint outline of his best friend’s face. Shooting always runs late on the first few episodes, and Steve is just looking forward to reacquainting himself with his couch (he’s not sure he’ll make it to the bed). Their driver, Brad, who also doubles as their bodyguard at local conventions, always insists on driving them home. He doesn’t have to go twenty minutes out of his way, or leave the car to idle as he watches Steve open the door to his townhouse, but he does. He’s been with them for five years – ever since Steve and Bucky became too recognizable to wander the streets unnoticed. They aren’t super famous, just well-known. _Captain America_ is a real hit with drama, sci-fi, and action audiences alike. Steve figures he owes it to Phil Coulson, the head writer. His writing is not too profound and not too slapstick but a subtle combination of both. Somehow he manages to sum up the characters of Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan in one sentence each. Steve asked him how, one time. ‘It’s not easy,’ Phil replied, choosing his words carefully, as he always does. ‘These characters are always going to be complex, but it’s about looking at the core of them. If you understand what drives a character, you understand them pretty comprehensively.’ Phil lives by that philosophy, and Steve’s seen it bear too much fruit to doubt it.

Cool sensation shivers through his shoulder and down his arm as he rests against the window. He takes pity on Bucky, a smile breaking out on his face. ‘Natasha told me,’ he confesses, only a little bit sheepish.

‘Bitch,’ Bucky mutters under his breath. He doesn’t really mean it – Steve knows those two have a weird love-hate relationship and even he doesn’t have the guts to get in between them. Bucky runs a tired, shaky hand over his face. ‘Thank God you know,’ he sighs. ‘I need your advice. Should I accept the offer?’

Steve eyes him. Worry is etched over the darkened line of his brow, anxiety in the hollow below his cheekbones. Light bounces off the tension in his jaw and his lips are a serious, dark slash across his face.

‘What do you think?’

‘I don’t know!’ Bucky snaps, hands clenching together. ‘I don’t know,’ he repeats, tension draining out of him. ‘Tony Stark is a douchebag, but this show… I’ve read the script. It’s really good. The protagonist is amazing – he makes the show worth all of the effort. This is the chance of a lifetime, I know that. I just… don’t want to leave you on your own out there.’

Steve shakes his head helplessly, but feels a little better when Bucky’s forearm relaxes under his palm. ‘This isn’t about me any more. You have to do your own thing, Buck. I’m an adult, and so are you. So… where do you go from here?’

‘I shouldn’t pass this up.’

Bucky knows what he wants. He always does. All Steve needs to do is prod him occasionally, make him verbalize his cycling thoughts. Steve’s just a conduit for clearer thoughts and a rational mind. A conduit for characterization and growth. A conduit for a writer’s talent and an audience’s fantasies. People channel their energy through him, and it leaves an empty hole in his kidneys and a bitter taste on his tongue, but he directs it. He is a lightning rod, conducting the energy around him. He gives it somewhere to go. Steve is perfectly happy to be the grounding rod, as long as he can help others. It’s worth the hollowed out stomach he walks around with every day, if he can just make one person’s life better.

So he shuts up, pushes down the burning in his chest and the ache in his lungs. Says, ‘I think you have your answer.’

 

 

 

 

 

Two weeks later, he’s at another convention.

The event organizers approached him at the last minute after a couple of guests couldn’t attend. Peter Quill from _Guardians of the Galaxy_ had been called back early from his own hiatus to shoot an extra episode for the show’s second season. Steve’s only met Peter Quill a couple of times – the first time he saw the guy, the San Diego Comic Con after party was in full swing and he was clutching a Mountain Dew in his hands. His clothes were askew and he was giggling madly, but he hadn’t smelled like alcohol, and Steve learned later on that he hadn’t drunk anything except sodas all night. Steve wondered if a sugar high was better than getting drunk.

So it surprised him when Peter’s face flashed on his screen. Steve didn’t remember putting his contact details into his phone, but he shrugged it off. Peter Quill is a weird guy. Steve can’t really tell whether his character’s wicked sense of humour is thanks to the writers or Peter himself. The casting directors certainly chose the right actor to play Chris Pratt – no one’s ever doubted that. He can just be _odd_ sometimes. For some reason, he has a pet raccoon called Bradley Cooper, of all things, and he brings the animal along to any convention that will allow it. Steve’s not sure what the hell is going on with that. Last he heard, Peter was lobbying passionately for Bradley Cooper to appear in _Guardians_. The writers love his character so much Steve thinks he won’t meet much resistance.

The phone call started with, ‘Steve, my convention-going friend!’ and went downhill from there.

The gist of the story is, Steve’s at another convention. And he would complain, but he actually loves them, and he’s thankful Peter Quill offered his position. The atmosphere at conventions – local or international – is electric with excited tension. It’s both an adrenaline rush and the feeling of his mother’s warm arms around him. Conventions like this, and the ecstatic grins on his fans’ faces when they meet him, are worth turning down big-screen movie work. The movies aren’t the same, and Steve would much rather have the support of a small, rabid dog than a lazy Doberman. Plus, he’s aware of how easily he gets attached to characters – TV allows him to explore that a little further (and gets him regular work).

He holds his first panel on Saturday morning. The couch is nicer than most of the ones he’s given at panels, and he sinks into it. He’s tired – always is after getting up early and hitting the hay late for two weeks straight. His panel is smaller than usual, just a cluster of cosplaying fans. So Steve ignores the protests of the handler the organizers have assigned him and takes a seat in the audience. A couple there are holding hands so tightly he’s worried for the bones in their fingers, practically vibrating with excitement.

‘Stages are boring,’ he tells the group conspiratorially, ignoring the spluttering of his handler. ‘This is much more interesting.’

‘Works for us,’ one woman says, a wide smile on her face.

‘So, what questions do you have for me?’

There’s only a brief moment’s hesitation before a young girl says nervously, ‘I really love _Captain America_ and the Sebastian Stan storyline. I just wanted to know if a _Winter Soldier_ spin-off is a possibility.’

‘After Vancouver Con a couple of years ago, we went straight to the producers with it,’ Steve tells her, sitting so he can rest his forearms on the back of his chair. ‘They loved the idea but I don’t think it’s going to pan out. Have you heard about Bucky’s new role?’ At the shake of her head, he continues, ‘Pretty sure Bucky only announced it this morning. He’s going to play Robert Downey Jr. in Tony Stark’s new TV show. _Captain America_ is going to wrap at the end of this year, so it’s the perfect time. I’ve read the script for the pilot episode and I can tell you, it’s going to be _fantastic_. One day I hope we’ll do a _Winter Soldier_ spin off, but it won’t be for a while, even if it does happen.’

‘Have you ever met Tony Stark?’ a male voice asks him. He can’t see the guy but he answers anyway.

‘Actually, I haven’t. I follow his new stuff pretty closely but I’ve never seen him at any of the conventions I’ve been to,’ he admits sheepishly. ‘With Bucky’s new role I’m sure I’ll meet him soon.’

The guy stands up and approaches Steve. Voice rich, he says, ‘or you can meet him now.’ He’s not exactly tall but he’s got a set of shoulders on him. His posture exudes _money_ just as surely as his perfectly tailored suit. He’s not exactly the typical picture of male physicality – he’s stocky, rectangular around the middle instead of the triangle Steve’s used to seeing – but it’s refreshing. The curve of his shoulder slopes gracefully into his neck, flowing to his perfectly trimmed beard. His hair is artfully messy and Steve’s not sure whether it’s styled or natural. And he’s handsome, he really is – but his eyes are something more. They’re a gooey chocolate brown, intelligent wit almost mitigating the warmth there. Something pounds in Steve’s chest at the sight of him, and it can’t be his heart – it’s not usually that heavy.

Steve holds his hand out, pushing down a shudder at the feeling of skin on skin. Tony’s fingers brush over the back of Steve’s hand, calloused with the long hours of holding pens. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he says. Doesn’t bother with his name, because it’s a little bit redundant.

Tony’s face transforms, a brilliant smile gracing his lips. ‘I’m sure it’s an honour for you,’ he says haughtily. And this is probably why Bucky hates him. Steve looks a little closer, Tony’s hand still clasped in his own. The contact sends electric shocks zinging helplessly up his arm. Steve realizes he’s staring but he can’t seem to stop himself.

Because how did Bucky manage to miss the gleam in his eyes? The hint of mischief in the pull of his skin and the twist of his lips? The long slope of his nose, the flutter of lashes against his cheeks as he blinks?

Steve stops that train of thought before it goes any further, pulling his hand away and gesturing to the chair next to him. He and Tony share the panel, and Steve tries to concentrate on his fans. Tries to ignore the tingling in his hand, like sensation’s returning after being frozen. He doesn’t really succeed.

 

 

 

 

 

Tony insists on taking a selfie before he leaves. Steve makes noises to the contrary, pushes the phone away playfully, but Tony turns on him, all puppy eyes and pitiful whimpers. Steve’s a total pushover. Before he knows it, there’s a phone in his face and the picture of them is on social media.

Tony presses a kiss to his cheek, and Steve doesn’t believe his heterosexual act for a second. But it doesn’t really matter, so he wipes at his cheek irritably and fights off his pleased blush.

When Tony leaves, he looks up the photo. Saves a copy, just for the record.

 

 

 

 

 

Twitter goes crazy.

Steve maintains that none of it is his fault.

It’s all Tony – the way his lips quirk suggestively in the photo itself, the way his arm is wrapped around Steve’s torso. Seeing it brings the ghostly reminder of warmth and solid muscle around his waist. Steve definitely does not look very happy to be in that position. No siree, he doesn’t.

The entire world gets the wrong idea. Probably because Tony’s description reads, _finally met the gorgeous Steve Rogers ;)_

And if he had any doubt about Tony’s sexuality, it’s all cleared up now.

 

 

 

 

 

‘Didn’t tell me you had a hot new boyfriend,’ Sam says conversationally.

Steve does a double take and loses all focus he has, Sam’s hand connecting with his cheek. It’s not light – not _at all_ , actually. The two of them have to make this fight sequence look believable. Chris Evans is finally going head-to-head with a freshly brainwashed Sebastian Stan in full Winter Soldier mode, and they’ve been rehearsing this for weeks. Sam is the best fight coordinator yet – last year he earned an award for best stunts. He understands Steve’s need to push himself, to be quicker and more efficient. After the third season, Steve had approached Phil about Captain America’s fighting style. ‘He’s been in the modern world for three years now,’ he’d argued, ‘and he’s not one to keep slipping in his duty. He would learn all the newest techniques.’ It’s the best thing he’s contributed to the character. The show’s been getting darker and darker since it’s relatively humorous first season, and the grittier fighting style meshes with the growth of the series. On training days, Steve’s muscles burn with the speed of his movements, but it’s worth the effort. Watching Evans and Stan on screen is like witnessing a deadly tango. It’s like they just launch into a winner-takes-all dance, barely contained fury warring with lightning fast grace. Steve knows it doesn’t work that way. He’ll spend weeks with Sam and Bucky, perfecting the precise moves needed to convey the strength of the fight.

But Steve always wants to do his own stunts, and Sam understands that. By now, he’s so good he could become a stunt man, so he’s not really worried anymore.

Still, the pain of Sam’s fist connecting with his cheek is a shock to his system.

‘Because I _don’t_ ,’ he snaps, relaxing his stance.

Sam’s hands fly up. ‘Sure,’ he agrees, feigning innocence. ‘Just like you weren’t dating Sharon.’

‘I wasn’t!’ Steve exclaims. ‘Why does everyone keep saying I did?’

Sam’s eyebrows are threatening to breach his hairline. He says, voice incredulous, ‘Because you took her to dinner twice a week, and you always went to the movies together. Then there was the constant stream of gifts you kept giving her. Plus, you two used to cling to each other like it was the end of the world.’

Steve just shrugs, approaching the bench by the wall. ‘Doesn’t mean we were dating,’ he grumbles.

‘You went _shopping_ with her!’

‘She asked me to!’ Steve snaps back, lowering himself onto the bench.

Sam stretches languidly, eyes never leaving Steve. ‘She had a huge crush on you, my friend. _Huge_.’

The wood is cold and hard on his abused muscles, seeping into his skin. He kneads at a knot running down the side of his left thigh, sighing explosively. ‘I didn’t know. She never said anything.’

Laughter bubbles up on Sam’s lips, as if he can’t help himself. ‘You’re so oblivious,’ he says, so quietly Steve thinks it’s not for him to hear. ‘What about Stark, then?’

Steve raises an eyebrow. ‘What about Stark?’ he repeats. ‘He just wanted a photo, that’s all.’

‘Yeah, Steve, and I just want a million dollars,’ Sam retorts, sarcasm dripping from every pore. ‘You hate selfies.’

‘So? He wouldn’t leave me alone.’

Sam sighs, frustration in the sound. His hand mashes against his cheek, garbling his words. ‘Jesus, Steve. You are so oblivious. Is it the gay thing? I know you can get weird about these kinds of things.’

‘What do you mean ‘gay thing’?’ Steve asks, a little offended. ‘I’m fine with that. I don’t know any gay men but they’re not different to you or I. Besides, what even makes you think he likes me?’

‘I have irrefutable evidence!’ Sam declares, digging through his bag. He resurfaces with a sleek-looking phone, bringing up his twitter app. Sam dumps himself onto the bench, warm side pressed against him. It doesn’t elicit the same tingle Tony’s arm did, and it’s weird. If he likes men, shouldn’t he be attracted to all men?

 _No, Steve_ , he tells himself. Not all heterosexual men are interested in all women, so it stands to reason that the same would apply to gay men. The thought stutters around in his brain and catches in his chest. Why is he even debating this? _He’s not dating Tony Stark_.

‘See this?’ Sam asks, pushing the phone into his face. He jabs his finger at the photo description. ‘It’s a _winky-face_. It’s the universal code for “I’m so into you”.’

Steve just shoves his shoulder, leaning his head against the wall behind him. ‘What does it matter anyway? I’m probably not going to see him again.’

He’s not sure why the words settle wrong in his gut.

 

 

 

 

Steve should learn to keep his mouth shut. He proves himself wrong less than three weeks later, when Tony attends his convention. The guy insists on taking another selfie, posting it to every available social media site, and standing entirely too close to Steve.

He asks for feedback on his writing, too, and _that_ Steve can do.

 

 

 

 

Turns out Tony Stark has his number.

Steve resorts to turning his phone off during the day so the vibration doesn’t interrupt shooting. They’re mid-way through the season, so it’s vital they avoid any further setbacks. Plus, he hates getting all worked up and suddenly needing to reshoot an emotional scene. It’s taxing on all of them.

When he switches his phone on between takes, he scrolls through his messages. Sometimes, Steve thinks Tony has nothing to do all day – he spends way too much time texting. But most of the messages read

_what do you do when you’re angry?_

_which is better: you over-enthusiastic son of a bitch, or overeager hussy?_

_devour sounds much better than engulf, don’t you think?_

Steve smiles. Tony probably doesn’t realize how much he enjoys sharing his writing. He slowly types out his reply, careful not to hit any extra buttons. Auto-correct is only helpful if he’s typed something remotely close to what he wants to say.

 _I approach whoever I’m angry with and try to talk but it usually ends up with yelling_ , he types. _Overeager hussy, and devour only applies in some circumstances._

Tony’s only reply is a winky-face, and Steve groans. He hates it when Sam’s right.

 

 

 

 

Steve is slated to appear at a convention in Ottawa when he finds out Tony is on the guest list. He sends Tony a picture over the phone and is subjected to a barrage of texts he isn’t sure what to do with.

Tony shows up late to the convention, crashes Steve’s panel, and argues incessantly with Bucky. It’s sad how much Steve enjoys it.

 

 

 

 

At the next convention, Tony hires Steve as Official Bucky Handler. Steve takes the job and the round of drinks he offers.

 

 

 

 

Peter Quill shows up at his door a month later. ‘Steve!’ he exclaims enthusiastically.

Steve has no idea how he found the address, but he’ll find the security leak and plug it as soon as possible. He’s not sure Peter Quill knows what the concept of personal space implies.

His eyes are bright when he throws his arms around Steve’s shoulders. For a startling second, they are pressed close together, and Steve flushes. Along with other parts of him that do not bear thinking about.

He’s done quite a lot of research lately. No matter what Sam insists, watching erotic movies _is_ research. He approaches the problem like Bruce does every day at his clinic – tests his hypothesis and reviews the results. The results definitely agree with his theory. Steve isn’t sure how being gay escaped his notice, or why it never came up before. Isn’t even sure if he’ll have the guts to ask a man out. At least he’s not really worried about what people will think of him. He’s learned that over the years. His fans are going to love him no matter who he dates.

Still, parts of him are taking interest in _Peter Quill_ , of all people, so he steps back from the hug. Peter’s hands clap down on his shoulders and that’s good enough for Steve.

‘Steve, can I ask you something?’ he says, face serious if not for the mischievous twitch of his lips. ‘You were so great at the last convention that I want you to come with me this time.’

Steve’s eyes are trying to forcibly eject from their sockets. ‘Um,’ he says intelligently.

‘Atlanti-con is this tiny convention in Newfoundland. They don’t really get the big names, so I thought the fans would love it if you came along.’

Steve groans. Peter knows exactly where to hit him, the little rat. ‘Peter…’

And the guy has the nerve to tuck his hands under his chin, eyes comically wide.

‘Fine,’ Steve caves, because it’s easier to just go along with it, in the end. ‘But only if you promise to buy me dinner.’

‘Like a date?’ Peter asks instantly, like a shark to bait.

Steve shifts nervously. Can’t really believe how stupid he is. On the other hand, he can make the most of the situation. ‘Yes, a date.’

Peter’s so excited by the idea that he calls ahead to a restaurant and books a place tonight, says he’ll pick Steve up at eight.

To be honest, the night is a blur. Between the nervousness eating away at his gut and the constant texts with Tony, he’s sure he’s terrible company, but Peter doesn’t mind. He chats amicably, eyes bright and smile easy. The whole affair is uncomplicated, and he does enjoy himself. Peter is a good man, but something doesn’t feel right. The attraction is only surface-deep, and Steve doesn’t have the desire to know exactly how he likes his coffee, what side of the bed he likes to sleep on, or what the skin of his bare hip will feel like.

Luckily, Peter senses when it’s time to quit. He carries the conversation as they walk a few blocks back to Steve’s house. He’s excited about Atlanti-con, and Steve is too.

He fumbles for his keys at the door, his fingers chilled. Peter just smiles indulgently at him and doesn’t touch.

‘Peter, I...’ Steve tries when the door finally opens, darkness greeting them. ‘I enjoyed our date but I…’

Peter presses a kiss into his cheek. The contact tingles across his skin but it’s enough for Steve. When he looks up, there’s a smile on Peter’s face. He steps away, turning towards the cold. His breath fogs up in the last vestiges of winter, swirling into the empty street. Steve thinks he’s going to walk away, but he doesn’t. Half-turns his torso to Steve and peers at him, all hint of his usual humour gone. ‘Next time you should ask Tony Stark,’ he says. Finally leaves, but not before Steve sees the self-depreciating smirk on his lips.

Steve stands in the doorway until he can’t feel his fingers.

 

 

 

‘Well, fancy meeting you here,’ Tony says coyly at the entrance to Atlanti-con.

‘Tony,’ Steve says, surprised. There’s a pleasant warmth tingling up and down his spine, settling in his intestines and his ribs. ‘I didn’t know you were coming.’

‘I was in the area,’ Tony declares, and Steve knows it’s not the truth (saw the photos of snow-coated Vancouver on Tony’s twitter account just yesterday), but he lets it go anyway. ‘So I decided to drop by.’

Peter claps a hand onto Steve’s shoulder, already taking a step towards the warm building in front of him. ‘You kids have fun, you hear?’ he calls, disappearing through the doorway.

Steve hesitates, not sure what to say. ‘Tony, I –‘

‘Peter told me about your date,’ Tony says, plowing over him with the grace of a steamroller.

‘Um,’ Steve begins, not sure where to start.

‘He also told me that you’re emotionally constipated.’

The snort escapes him before he properly registers the comment. ‘That’s very nice of him,’ he says, throat tight and hands twitching with the need to wring Peter Quill’s neck.

Tony’s foot taps impatiently, his arms crossed tight over his torso to keep the warmth in. ‘So?’

‘What?’

‘You aren’t going to tell me?’ he asks, a hint of offense in his tone.

Steve isn’t entirely sure when this conversation slipped away from him, but he has the feeling it was before he even opened his mouth. ‘Tell you what?’

Tony’s explosive sigh practically singes his eyebrows. ‘About your crush on me,’ he says, like it’s that easy.

Steve probably looks like a moron, in the few seconds it takes for his brain to reboot. Nervous panic weaves up through his stomach and into his chest, seizing his already cold lungs. ‘Tony, I have a crush on you,’ he says hesitantly. ‘Would you go on a date with me?’ he finishes, before his throat closes up entirely.

Tony eyes him like he’s gone crazy. Steve’s heart pounds haphazardly in his chest, stomach dropping into the soles of his shoes. He resists the urge to wrap his arms around himself. His chest is so heavy the pain spreads into his spine. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever felt something so strange.

The only sound is that of Steve’s harsh breathing and the cars navigating the treacherous road behind them. ‘If you don’t want to, just say so,’ he asserts, just to break the silence.

Tony takes a step forward, and he’s all Steve can see. His eyes burn with something Steve doesn’t understand and his cheeks are a rosy red. Cold fingers thread into Steve’s hair, stroking clumsily down to his jaw.

Tony’s nose is freezing, pressed against the heated skin of his cheek. His lips are deliciously warm in counterpoint, clinging to his own. Tony’s tongue is slick and clever; teasing the line of Steve’s bottom lip, and his beard raises heat on Steve’s skin, sensation shivering through his guts.

Something feels like it’s trying to break its way through Steve’s chest, pounding against his ribs and fluttering through his lungs. Tony’s hands and lips burn imprints into him, settle beneath his skin. Steve pushes closer, can’t help himself. Air rushes onto his face as Tony exhales shakily. A spike of delight goes straight to his groin. Tony made that noise because of _Steve_. He returns to the coffee-taste of Tony’s lips. Maybe _devour_ is the perfect word after all.

His lips are wet, the cold tingling like needles on his skin when Tony releases him. ‘You are an idiot,’ Tony breathes into him, warming him from the inside out.

Steve huffs out a laugh, tucks his cold hands into Tony’s jacket, flattening against his ribs. ‘So I’ve been told,’ he replies, leaning in.

Any other remarks on his mental capacity will have to wait until later.

**Author's Note:**

> What? I attended a con over the weekend and this idea wouldn't leave me alone. Laugh as much as you want - I had so much fun writing this it's ridiculous. 
> 
> (Also who doesn't love a little Peter Quill?)
> 
> Ah, AUs. Hope you enjoyed your foray into this one.


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